


Olisbokollix

by CousinSerena



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Ancient Greece, Archaeology, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Bread Sex, Crack Treated Seriously, Crowley Has A Vulva (Good Omens), Don't Judge Me, Don't Try This At Home, Drunk Sex, Genderfluid Crowley (Good Omens), I Don't Even Know, I'm Sorry, M/M, Not Beta Read, Wine, You don't actually see the bread sex, but mostly implied
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 09:07:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28543029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CousinSerena/pseuds/CousinSerena
Summary: Archaeologists explore an ancient Greek dwelling where they find evidence of bread, sex, and two ineffable idiots.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 28
Kudos: 69





	Olisbokollix

**Author's Note:**

> I was innocently researching the history of sex toys when I came across an article that discussed olisbokollices. These were very hard breadsticks shaped into a phallus. It is thought that ancient Greeks used these loaves to pleasure themselves, making them essentially bread dildos. You can Google it for more information.  
> Naturally I had to put this information into a fic, no matter how silly the result. Consider this the bread dildo fic nobody asked for.
> 
> Bonus quiz: Bea Efflin is an anagram for what important Good Omens word?

**Athens, Greece**

** Present Day  **

The Athens sun blazed hot on the excavation team, led by Dr. Bea Efflin. They’d uncovered an ancient Greek dwelling, dating from the 5th Century BC judging by soil samples and artifact seriation. 

They’d found surface ceramic shards and once they’d uncovered the foundations of the dwelling itself, things got even more exciting. This was Efflin’s first major excavation as head archaeologist, and she’d already made some discoveries that would provide new insights into the day to day living of average Athenians. For instance, this dwelling seemed to be used for entertaining many visitors, evidenced by the unusually high numbers of wine jugs--some broken, a couple nearly intact.

It looked like the dwelling of a respected citizen, with one large main chamber and another smaller one for sleep. The remarkably preserved frescoes adorning several of the otherwise sunbaked and faded walls was further evidence that the owner of this dwelling was an upper class citizen. Most depicted scenes from classical mythology, nude nymphs prominently depicted along with scenes of grapes and wine. They’d found one image, however, that defied logic. In the center of one pastoral scene was an apple tree with a large black and red snake coiling around the branches. Was it a coincidence, or was this a reference to Genesis? And if so, what was it doing here?

Another wall bore a depiction of two winged figures, one with white wings and one with black. The rest of the painting was too faded and worn to tell much more. Bea was taking notes when her assistant called out to her from the smaller chamber.

“Dr. Efflin, come look at this.”

Bea made her way to the bedchamber. Her assistant Ben, a student intern, was pointing to a wall which bore numerous inscriptions. 

One of them, crudely carved and oddly, seemingly scorched, was another winged figure. This one bore a circle above the head. But unlike depictions of Biblical angels, this one featured a large and crudely drawn penis. 

Was the figure in fact a depiction of one of the gods of the Greek pantheon? Underneath were letters but some were too worn to decipher.

“A--ra--phale loves bread?” recited Ben, making out what he could. Below this, oddly reminiscent of modern teen lovers carving their initials into a tree, was “A + C.” 

Bea studied the wall carvings and took photographs. Strange, this amounted to ancient graffiti. Who would carve their bedchamber walls with crude phallic drawings and writing? The occupant had probably been soused on local wine.

She inspected the wall carving a little more closely. 

“Ben, come have a look at this,” she said. “Take a look at this figure with the wings and the, umm, appendage.”

“You mean the angel with the enormous di--”

“Ben, _focus_. That is not a normal phallus. What does it look like to you?”

He peered more closely at the drawing. “It looks like a baguette,” he said.

“Exactly. It rather makes sense when you read the inscription about loving bread.” She grinned broadly. “Someone had quite a sense of humor.”

They moved back into the main chamber where a remarkably intact bowl still sat on a low stone table. She pondered. She had read a few textual references to the ancient Greek _olisbokollikes_ but she’d never seen actual evidence of such things herself.

“Ben, let’s take samples from some of these organic scatterings in and around the dish. I want to see what the lab comes up with.” 

* * *

** Athens, circa 400 BC **

“Hang on, my dear, just you relax and I’ll fetch more wine.”

  
“I’m pretty relaxed already, angel. After all, we’ve been drinking awhile now.” Crowley was comfortably draped on Aziraphale’s simple couch. It would have been quite uncomfortable, except that the angel had miracled fluffy cushions stuffed with feathers. The cushions were woven with a pattern of interlocking stripes. Just because this was ancient Greece and tartan had not been invented, that was no reason not to be stylish.

Aziraphale returned to the main room, a bit wobbly from the potent wine he’d already imbibed, carrying a new jug and a loaf of bread to go with the cheese and grapes they’d been snacking on. He set it all down on a low table in front of the couch, along with a knife and a small dish of olive oil for the bread. 

“Now this amphora contains the most delicious wine from Lysikles. It was a gift because I’d given a blessing at his daughter’s wedding. And the bread comes from Timun because apparently his business has been booming ever since I’ve begun frequenting the bakery.” 

Crowley waved his hands dismissively. “Never mind your good deed doing, angel. Pour us a drink.”

They settled in once more, sitting close together on the couch and nibbling on the cheese and grapes. 

An hour or so later, the two were comfortably boozy and their hands began to wander over each other a bit. They’d finished off the cheese and most of the grapes, and a considerable portion of the wine. They kissed, becoming lost in the moment until a loud growl came from the angel’s stomach. 

“Hungry, angel?”

“Well, if you must know, I’m still feeling a bit peckish.”

“You and your timing. Well there’s still the bread,” Crowley pointed out. But then he tilted his head and stared harder at the loaf sitting on the table, and inexplicably burst into laughter.

“What in blazes is so funny about bread, dear?” Food, Aziraphale felt, was not a laughing matter. His frown deepened as Crowley began snorting as he laughed.

“Really, my dear, that is most unattractive. What about a loaf of bread could _possibly_ be that funny?” 

“Looks like a giant dildo, that’s what.”

“It does not!”

“Look at it, angel. Bit knobbier on one end, isn’t it?”

Now that Aziraphale really looked at it, he could see that Crowley had a point. It was a thin hard baguette, but now he noticed that one end was a bit knobby. And--oh dear--a little slit was carved into the end. How had he not seen it before? But why would the baker give him a loaf shaped like male genitalia?

And then he remembered.

“Crowley! Now that you mention it, when I told Timun that I was going to be entertaining a very special friend, he told me this was a special loaf of bread for just such an occasion and he _winked_ at me. He said these loaves have been very popular with the local women.”

Crowley seemed to struggle trying not to burst into laughter but it was a lost cause. “Popular! I bet they’re popular, angel.” 

He wiped the tears of laughter from his eyes and grabbed the knife to cut the bread, but the baguette was so hard it was a lost cause. 

“Sorry, angel. Here, let me feed you some grapes.” 

Crowley put a grape between his own teeth and leaned forward to the angel’s mouth. 

Aziraphale bit into the grape, still between Crowley’s teeth, and soon they were going through more grapes in a similar fashion leading to wonderfully messy kisses. They ended up licking grape pulp off each other’s mouths as they deepened the kissing. Soon enough, Aziraphale’s grumbling stomach was forgotten. 

“Come here, fiend. I find I have an appetite, but I’m not hungry for food now.” 

The angel groped Crowley through his light linen tunic. Their pelvises were pressed together, and Aziraphale’s hard effort prodded insistently against the demon as he leaned into him. 

“I hope it’s okay, angel,” said Crowley, blushing uncharacteristically. “I changed my effort tonight.”

Aziraphale pressed Crowley back on the couch and hiked his tunic up. His hands felt the welcoming warmth there, and his fingers wandered into the demon’s hot, wet folds. 

“More than okay, my dear. I can’t wait to be inside you.” 

They made love there on the couch, long and slow until they climaxed together, both soon breathless and wrung out from their mutual shattering orgasms. 

But there was something about tonight--the wine, perhaps? Aziraphale found himself achingly hard again almost immediately.

“Crowley. Dear,” he said breathlessly. “I need _more."  
_

"What, angel? What do you need?

"I need--I need something _inside_ me, Crowley. Please.”

“Want me to change efforts, angel? Thing is, I’m not sure I can in this condition.” The wine had dampened his focus considerably.

“No, darling, you’re lovely this way. I just--what are you doing, dear?”

Crowley had reached over and grabbed the bread. It was hard as a rock. The demon dipped his fingers into the little dish of olive oil and smoothed it over the thin hard loaf.

He waggled his eyebrows at Aziraphale. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking, angel?”

“Oh! Oh, my.” Aziraphale hiccuped, swaying a little. He pointed at Crowley, who was still holding the bread. “But you have such a long thick breadstick.”

“Why thank you, angel.”

“Let’s take this into the bedroom, dear. Perhaps a second round?”

“I’ll bring the bread.”

* * *

  
  


**Athens University, Archaeology Department**

**Department of Field Studies**

**Office of Dr. Bea Efflin**

** Present Day  **

  
  


Ben entered Dr. Efflin’s office holding a report.

“Well, the lab analysis came back from that dwelling with the weird wall art. They ran the organic material we found on the table and that dish.”

“And?”

“Lab confirms it is ancient bread. The lab was even able to detect traces of olive oil.”

“And?”

“And another substance.”

“Yes?”

“Umm...yes.”

“Well?”

“Well,” Ben said, shuffling his feet and coughing lightly. “They found traces of…..well, it seems this bread wasn’t exactly _eaten_.”

“Not another word, Ben.”

“Makes you wonder where this bread has been.”

  
“Best not to imagine.”

**Author's Note:**

> I may do a series where these archaeologists find different artifacts that the Husbands left behind, and then tell the story behind each one. Kind of like that "History of the World in 100 Objects," but this would be a history of Aziraphale and Crowley.


End file.
